Different Kind of Love
by FeelTheCold
Summary: Every person carries these things inside of them, things that no one else could see. They hold people down like anchors, they drown them out at sea. Cordelia was drowning, asphyxiating with every breath she drew. She wanted her mother. She needed Fiona. She couldn't help but wonder if the time would ever come when Fiona actually needed her...


**Author's note: This has the potential to become a story, as opposed to just staying as a one-shot. As always, I own nothing pertaining to AHS, I only wish I did. Reviews are appreciated.**

**~oOoOoOo~**

It had been two days since Myrtle restored Cordelia's eyesight, and two days since Fiona stormed out of the Academy in a fit of rage and jealousy.

Even now, days after the stark scent of Fiona's musky perfume had faded, and the imprint of her mother's fingertips grazing against the bare flesh of Cordelia's collarbone had disappeared, Cordelia could still see the envy in Fiona's eyes-the raw emotion, unadulterated and so unlike her mother-staking its claim upon Fiona's visage.

All because Fiona had walked in on Cordelia and Myrtle chatting.

Fiona despised Myrtle, and was beginning to resent Cordelia for having the nerve to look at Myrtle as if she had hung the moon and stars in the sky-as if Myrtle had been Cordelia's mother. Cordelia had a mother, she didn't need another one.

According to Cordelia, that notion wasn't entirely accurate. Fiona had never been a mother to Cordelia. There wasn't a maternal bone in Cordelia's body. The only reason that Cordelia had even been conceived was because her mother had drunkenly decided to fall in bed with a wealthy man, capable of buying Fiona the world if she wanted it, and didn't use protection. Cordelia knew as well as the next girl that Fiona could have terminated her pregnancy. She probably considered it more than a few times, but it was in the best interest of the coven to continue the lineage of Salem descendants.

Fiona wasn't the type of woman that followed conformity. She was a leader, not a follower; though few followed her lead. There were two types of people in this world; people that shared common interests of Fiona, and people that quaked in fear at the mere mention of her name in a casual conversation.

Still, Cordelia didn't fear her mother, not as the others did, though she had been presented with several reasons to validate what she already knew-she _should_ have been frightened by Fiona's presence in the Academy. Fiona was vile. A depraved woman, selfish and a bitch that had no worries when it came to collateral damage, or who would be caught in the crossfires as a result of her poor decision-making skills, or lack thereof, rather.

At the moment, Cordelia was sitting in her room, alone-away from any interruptions, away from Myrtle and the rest of Cordelia's girls. She needed this time to herself, time to reflect, time to cry. It took every ounce of strength inside of Cordelia to not break down in front of her Auntie Myrtle and the students of the Academy when Fiona was mentioned. They all wondered where she went, and what had caused her to flee.

In truth, Cordelia feared for her mother's safety, in spite of herself. The woman was ill, and if it had been under different circumstances, it would have been lawfully merited. Fiona had committed a lot of terrible acts whilst leading her disputable life, inflicted harm upon many innocent people. Karma was only a vindictive bitch if you were, and Fiona certainly fit in quite well in that category.

Cordelia shouldn't have felt anything for her mother, but she did. She shouldn't have shed one tear for her mother, but she did. She shouldn't have loved her mother, the woman whose loins Cordelia emerged into this evil world of death and rot from, but she did.

Against Cordelia's will, she _loved_ her mother. It was a different kind of love. A strained love, a love that was broken, a love that had long since forgotten what love actually was, but it was a love, nonetheless.

Fiona was too far gone. Not even the most forgiving saint could have helped her, but Cordelia was willing to try. She was willing to tolerate her mother long enough for the new Supreme to rise, and then... well, she didn't know what would happen, or how she would feel about her mother's death-whether it would feel like a poetic justice, or a tragedy; a light that had burned out too soon.

Cordelia was confused. Her mind was playing tricks on her. In a perfect world, Fiona would be beside Cordelia, smoothing her fingers through the silken gold tresses that fell from Cordelia's scalp, whispering soothing words in an endeavor to calm Cordelia's worries, and lessen the storm that was raging inside of Cordelia. The weight of the world was too much. She was exhausted. She was depressed. She had forgotten how to smile.

Cordelia couldn't drown her demons._ They knew how to swim._

Every person carries these things inside of them, things that no one else could see. They hold people down like anchors, they drown them out at sea.

Cordelia was _drowning_, asphyxiating with every breath she drew. She wanted her mother. She needed Fiona. She couldn't help but wonder if the time would ever come when Fiona actually needed her...


End file.
